


At First Glance

by g33kyclassic



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Mutant, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff, Love at first fluffy cardigan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:20:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g33kyclassic/pseuds/g33kyclassic
Summary: Erik-- the CEO of a multinational company-- is always dressed to the nines fine suits. The people who surround him are no less. They're all well groomed, fit, and some better looking than top end models (men and women). But one day Erik meets a frumpy Professor in a fluffy cardigan, thick glasses, full cheeks and a slight pudge. Charles Xavier.  His life will never be the same.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 39
Kudos: 380
Collections: Secret Mutant Madness 2019





	At First Glance

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [JackyJango](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Erik-- the CEO of a multinational company-- is always dressed to the nines fine suits. The people who surround him are no less. They're all well groomed, fit, and some better looking than top end models (men and women). But the only one who catches Erik's eyes is a frumpy Professor in a fluffy cardigan, thick glasses, full cheeks and a slight pudge. Charles Xavier.
> 
> Erik can't stop drooling over the said professor. Fluff ensues?
> 
> Thank you JackyJango for your wonderful prompt! I hope this little ditty does it justice.
> 
> Thanks also goes to my lovely beta for finding all my silly mistakes :) Whatever would I do without you? Any silly mistakes that remain are completely my own.

**1.**

Erik sat at the head of the long boardroom table, presiding over the weekly department head meeting with his typical stoic silence. He was not the type to talk unless something needed to be said, but when he did interrupt, he had reason, and that reason was more likely than not because he was about to tear his employees apart for careless mistakes. Getting a word of praise from Erik Lehnsherr was almost unheard of at Lehnsherr Inc. 

After building a company from the ground up with his own two hands and his sweat, blood and tears, Erik knew what it took to win. It may have taken ten years of intense effort, but he was now the CEO of a successful business, his face plastered on the cover of Forbes magazine, and the only legitimate rival to Tony Stark when it came to advancements in engineering.

No one had expected him to succeed. Not a boy from an immigrant family, orphaned at thirteen when his parents died in a robbery gone wrong at their bakery. Erik had spent most of his time as a teenager trying to study while continuously getting into fights with classmates who picked on his foster-siblings. After managing to graduate high school, he’d had no money for college and had worked as many odd jobs as possible; dog walker, snow removal, construction, courier; you name it, Erik tried it. 

Then one day, sitting on a park bench taking a break from a delivery, a woman had approached him and asked if he’d ever considered modeling. Erik had almost told her to fuck off and quit screwing with him, but she already handed her business card out. He took it and his life changed almost instantly. A couple of big bookings later and suddenly college wasn’t a pipe dream; he was paying rent on time, had food in his belly and still had money in the bank.

If the engineering world hadn’t expected much from a former model who’d posed in his underwear on billboards, well, that wasn’t surprising. But here he was, so successful he couldn’t be ignored.

Looking around the table, Erik was surrounded by a team he was proud of; hard working, diligent, cutthroat when they needed to be, a circle of perfectly presented faces.

“Fashion disaster, three o’clock.” Emma Frost said with a critically arched eyebrow.

Every head in the boardroom turned but Erik’s. Erik remained focused on Emma who was giving him her usual look of bored disdain. 

“This is the weekly review, not the red carpet.” Erik commented mildly.

Not that he blamed Emma, or any other employee for noticing someone dressed in an unprofessional manner. Erik lead by example with his fashion choices – if he’d learned one lesson as a model it was that appearances mattered; whether you liked it or not, people judged you on your looks. As the head of a major company Erik carefully dressed in only the best suits: Gucci, Tom Ford, Yves Saint Laurent. He preferred classic, understated colours and a slim, body conscious fit. 

His staff, following his lead, dressed to impress. That Erik also hired a significant number of former models that he personally knew were much more than just a pretty face, certainly hadn’t hurt in having his business named to the “Best Dressed List” of the New York Times magazine.

“Is that jacket corduroy?” Erik’s director of marketing, Janos Quested, asked, his nose scrunched in disgust.

At that comment, Erik gave in and looked – he couldn’t imagine anyone gracing the executive floor of Lehnsherr Inc. in a corduroy jacket.

Erik glanced to his right, through the glass walled board room. The man, a real, corduroy wearing man, was standing at the reception desk, animatedly chatting away with Raven, Erik’s new personal assistant.

His outfit was awful, it hurt to look at it really. He had a beige corduroy jacket on, with patches sewn onto the elbows, charcoal slacks that were far too big on him and a navy blue cardigan with shiny buttons.

“Who is that?” Moira MacTaggert, the head of the Product Development team asked.

Wanting to know the answer to that question himself, Erik got up and exited the room. Let his staff think he was going to ask the horribly dressed man to leave, Erik knew the truth. He wanted to get a better look. Because maybe the man was dressed like he’d raided a bin of clothing at the Salvation Army, but he also had a glorious head of chestnut brown hair and perfectly pale skin, and Erik was fascinated with how he talked with his hands. He was also sure, if he could get a better look, that the man’s face would be stunning.

Striding over until he was beside Raven and the poorly dressed man, Erik was happy to say he was right – the man was exquisite. His face was like porcelain, his cheeks soft, his lips pert and pink, and he had liveliest blue eyes Erik had ever seen. That those blue eyes were almost hidden underneath a pair of thick glasses that looked like they should have been gracing the face of an eighty-year-old man should have been criminal, but Erik spotted them, nonetheless.

“Oh, hello.” The man said, bright, shining smile on his face as he turned to look at Erik.

“Hello.” Erik responded, feeling a warmth pool in his belly at the sound of the man’s crisp British accent.

“This is my brother, Charles Xavier.” Raven said. “Charles, this is my boss and the founder of the company, Erik Lehnsherr.”

“So very pleased to meet you, Erik. May I say the write-up in Forbes magazine on you and your company was fascinating! Though, from what Raven has told me, they certainly didn’t focus enough on your -”

“Charles.” Raven cut in, giving her brother a harsh glare. “Mr. Lehnsherr has a very busy schedule.”

“Oh, oh of course. My apologies, Mr. Lehnsherr. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”

Erik watched as Charles flushed, the pink making his cheeks even more irresistibly attractive. He found himself completely overwhelmed by a sudden urge to grab the smaller man and haul him into his office and just keep him there so Erik could watch him talk all day; watch his pink lips move and his cheeks flush and his enthusiastic hand gestures and listen to his posh British accent. It was completely ridiculous.

“Mr. Lehnsherr, you have a ten o’clock meeting.” Raven stated, giving her brother another deep frown. “I have the files ready at my desk. Did you want to review them with Mr. Munoz before the meeting? You have fifteen minutes until they’re due to arrive.”

Erik wrenched his eyes away from the object of his infatuation. “That would be excellent, Raven. Bring the files into my office.” Erik turned back to Charles and gave what he hoped was an unaffected expression. “It was nice to meet you Mr. Xavier.” He said, extending his hand and receiving a firm confident handshake from the man across from him. 

The ten o’clock meeting with the city planners went well – it seemed the latest venture of Lehnsherr Inc. was going to pass through the administrative red tape and begin within the next month. Erik should have been happy; he should have been thrilled. And he was. He had that low throb of pleasure in the pit of his stomach. But he was also perpetually distracted by the tingling of his hand, which hadn’t stopped since he’d touched Charles Xavier hours ago.

Erik made it through the day, though he was often distracted by thoughts of deep blue eyes and fuzzy cardigans. It all made him feel slightly mad, which must have been why he found himself calling Raven into his office at the end of the day and trying to subtly interrogate her about her brother.

“You and your brother have different last names.” He commented mildly as he signed papers.

“We’re step siblings.” Raven replied with a shrug.

“But you’re close?” 

“We can be.” Raven laughed. “My brother is a complete dork; he always has been and always will be. He’s a professor at Columbia, he dresses liked a retiree and he thinks going to the symphony is a fun night out.” Raven rolled her eyes. “He’s a sweetheart, but we don’t always see eye to eye.”

“You’re lucky to have family so close.” Erik said.

“Yeah, I am.” Raven agreed.

“That’s all I need for today, Raven. You’re free to go home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lehnsherr.” Raven nodded and left the room.

Erik sat alone at his desk, turned toward the windows and looked out at the city. Yesterday this view had been perfect, his life had been everything he’d thought he’d wanted: CEO of his own business, rich, successful, powerful. Tonight, the view felt lonely. Erik couldn’t help but think the view would look nicer if only there was somebody standing beside him to see it with him.

* * *

Finding a professor at Columbia was slightly harder than Erik had anticipated. Columbia had quite an extensive list of professors and Erik hadn’t thought to ask what subject Charles taught when he was talking to Raven. But then Erik wouldn’t have gotten as far as he had in business if he wasn’t persistent.

After fighting with the poorly designed search function, Erik finally found him: Charles Xavier, PhD, English Professor. Figuring out Charles’ schedule was slightly harder, but with time Erik managed to discover that Charles taught an evening class on Wednesdays and Fridays. Erik couldn’t drop by the Wednesday class since he had a business commitment, but his Friday evening was clear, and it was a simple thing to ask Raven to keep it that way.

Now, sitting at the back of a lecture hall full of students half his age, completely entranced as Charles lectured, Erik was very, very glad he’d kept the evening free. Charles commanded the room; he may have been a shorter man, but he had such presence, it filled the entire space. His voice was full of life, his enthusiasm for the material obvious in his every word, and his students appeared as enraptured as Erik felt.

He had never before had such an extreme urge to pounce on a man dressed in a cardigan that could have been stolen from Mr. Roger’s wardrobe, but Charles did something to him that he couldn’t possibly explain. Erik was all clean lines and hard edges, he was cool and aloof and a great many people had complained to him over the years about how hard it was to get to know him, how often he kept himself hidden. In fact, a good part of his appeal as a model had been that mystery, his aloofness, the taste of the unattainable. 

Erik couldn’t help but think as he watched Charles pace the room, that he might possibly be the opposite of all of that. He was soft; his hair, his body, all of him made to be cuddled and held. His face was expressive and open, almost giddy in its enthusiasm to share with others. Strangely Erik found himself wanting to plant himself beside Charles, hold his hand and never let him go. Erik the model had been able to make people want to be him, but Charles, the man, made people want to be with him.

He was so enthralled, he hardly noticed the students leaving, his gaze still focused on Charles’ face as he spoke to individual students, his stomach lurching when Charles’ laugh filled the room.

When the room was empty and all the students had gone, Erik felt grateful. Charles was staring at him, those impossible blue eyes wide and questioning. Erik stood and made his way down to the smaller man without even thinking, drawn in by the magnetic pull of Charles Xavier. For a man who’d never considered himself a romantic, who’d spent most of his life bouncing from one night stand to one night stand, his immediate and profound attraction to this poorly dressed professor was completely inexplicable.

“Mr. Lehnsherr.” Charles said, his confusion evident. “Why are you here? Has something happened with Raven?”

“You teach Whitman.” Erik said watching the little confused pucker between Charles’ brow with fascination.

“I do. This is a 19th Century American Poetry course, I would be horribly remiss if I didn’t teach Whitman.” Charles’ frown deepened. “Mr. Lehnsherr, if you could answer my question, please, is Raven alright?”

“Raven is fine.” Erik replied. “I’m here for you.”

“For me?” Charles repeated. “Are you auditing my course?”

Erik was both baffled and amused by Charles’ confusion – it was as if the man couldn’t fathom why Erik was there. As if he didn’t know he was irresistible, that he was magnetic north and Erik was a compass point, pulled toward him no matter which way he turned.

“Are you free tonight? For a drink?” Erik asked.

He felt apprehensive in a way he hadn’t since he was a teenager. Charles’ response mattered. It mattered a great deal and Erik wasn’t sure what kind of answer he was about to receive.

“Me?” Charles questioned, eyebrows shooting upward.

“Yes, you.” Erik smiled.

“Is this… is this a date?” Charles asked, still frowning slightly.

“Yes.” Erik’s smile grew.

Charles continued to frown, and Erik began to worry as the silence stretched between them. Had he done this all wrong? Was Charles going to say no?

“Do you like pie?” Charles finally spoke.

“Pie?” It was Erik’s turn to be confused. “I… yes I like pie.”

In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had pie, but if Charles wanted pie, Erik would eat pie.

“There’s a place not far from here, a little hole in the wall type cafe, with the best coffee, tea and pie you’ve ever had. We could go… if you’d like.” Charles offered.

“Lead the way.”

Erik followed Charles out of the classroom with a spring in his step. When Charles stopped by the door to grab his awful beige corduroy jacket, Erik’s grin widened.

“You know, that was the first thing I noticed about you.” Erik commented.

“My jacket?” Charles puzzled.

“I thought: a man wearing a jacket like that must have confidence in spades.”

“It’s just a ratty old thing I found when I was volunteering at a youth center – none of the kids wanted it but they all swore up and down it suited me.”

“And it does.” Erik agreed.

“You are an odd man Mr. Lehnsherr.” Charles arched a brow at him.

“We’re dating now, Charles, please call me Erik.” Erik invited.

“Dating, you say? Well, if we’re dating you should probably know I have a few dating rules I live by...”

* * *

**2.**

Charles’ dating rules had supposedly come about after a particularly difficult break-up, though Erik suspected they had since been refined and honed on the New York City dating scene. Charles was a heady mix of openly forthright and cautious. He touched Erik frequently; held his hand, brushed his arm, touched his shoulder. He would talk about anything and everything and Erik found he did the same in return. In less than a week he knew Charles’ father had died when he was in kindergarten and that his mother had been aloof and cold, and Erik had revealed the tragic circumstances of his parent’s death and his time in foster care. The sort of things Erik usually didn’t share with anyone, but with Charles the words spilled out, raw and honest while sitting on Charles’ overstuffed couch, drinking wine and listening to Beethoven.

For all the touching and emotional honesty, the physical side of their relationship was moving slowly. Much more slowly than Erik was accustomed to – not that he would ever think of rushing Charles. The man had clearly been hurt in the past and if he needed time, then Erik was happy to give it to him.

Did he spend most of his nights at home jerking off to the fantasy of fucking his new boyfriend? Yes, yes, he did. Did he feel this was a bit ridiculous for a 40-year-old man? Yes, yes, he did. Did he want to find whoever had hurt Charles and made him hesitant to have sex, and punch him in the face and then kick him in the balls? Yes, yes, he did.

But Charles was worth the wait. He may not have seen Charles naked. He might not have even gotten Charles completely out of his adorable soft cardigans yet, but they must have spent hours over the last month making out on Charles couch, or Erik’s couch, or sometimes in Erik’s kitchen where lifting Charles up onto the counter put him at the perfect height for kissing without any neck strain whatsoever. And by god, Charles may have been the best kisser in the whole fucking universe. The things that man could do with his tongue…

Sitting at his desk, Erik shivered at the mere memory of Charles’ wicked tongue and how easy it was for him to make Erik feel like a randy teenager again. The number of nights Erik had staggered home to his apartment while hiding his erection from a cabbie was getting rather embarrassing.

A knock interrupted Erik’s thoughts and straightened in his chair.

“Come in.”

Emma walked in, a vision in a white pant suit and mile high heels. She closed the door behind her and fixed Erik with a hard glare.

“You have to do something about that man, Erik.”

“What man?”

“That odd little hobbit, hobo, whatever, looking man! He’s back, visiting Raven again and this time he’s brought cookies!” Emma informed him; her distaste clear.

Erik stood up and brushed past Emma without a word. Charles was here. In his office.

“Charles!” Erik called out immediately, spotting his boyfriend standing near Raven’s desk, a tin of cookies in his hands. “You made cookies.” Erik smiled softly.

“I did. Ginger snaps and shortbread. Holiday classics.” Charles beamed. “Though they seem to be a tough sell here; do you have some sort of office policy against baked goods?” Charles frowned, but his lips twitched with good humour.

“Hardly.” Erik replied, picking out a cookie and taking a bite. “Delicious as always.” He grinned.

“Happy to hear it.” Charles smiled back. “Sorry for dropping in unannounced, but I thought we might have dinner early – we could head over to Katz’s. I’ve never been, and I seem to recall someone saying that was simply tragic.”

“It is tragic, and it must change. Now.” Erik turned to look at a bewildered Raven. “Raven, cancel my last meeting of the day, I have to take Charles to get the best sandwich of his life.”

* * *

“What the fuck just happened?” Raven said to no one in particular.

“I think Erik and your brother just left on a date.” Emma replied, frowning.

“My boss is dating my brother? My brother is dating my boss? That bastard!” Raven exclaimed. “I knew he was seeing someone. I knew it! I cannot believe he didn’t tell me he was dating my boss!”

“Your brother dresses like a homeless person.” Emma said caustically. “He was wearing fingerless gloves – I cannot imagine what Erik sees in him.” She gave Raven a head to toe scan. “How are you related again?”

“He’s my step-brother.” Raven answered, facing Emma head on. “And he may not have the best fashion sense, he may not have much of any fashion sense, but my brother is an amazing catch and if Erik knows what’s good for him, he’ll see that.”

“If you say so.” Emma shrugged.

* * *

Erik gazed down at Charles’ rumpled head of hair and smiled. Waiting for Charles to be ready for intimacy hadn’t been easy, but it had been worth it. Once Charles had let go, he was an enthusiastic and open lover. He had also demonstrated that his tongue was talented at more than just kissing by giving Erik the best blow job of his entire life.

Now, hours later, having a warm, naked Charles in his bed, in his arms, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, that Erik would be lying next to him all night, was perfection. Erik hoped, he sincerely hoped, he could convince Charles to stay with him every night in the near future.

Erik couldn’t stop his fingers from trailing down Charles’ body. Erik loved his freckled arms and his pale torso. He was so smooth and soft.

“Are you going to rub my belly all night?” Charles asked sleepily.

“Maybe.” Erik grinned into Charles’ shoulder, kissing him lightly.

“I think you’re stunned to find some people have a layer of protective insulation.” Charles twisted to face Erik, running placing his hands on Erik’s chest. “You don’t seem to have any.”

“I like your insulation.” Erik replied, nipping at Charles’ ear. “I like,” Erik continued kissing his way down Charles’ neck, “every single part of you. Did I not make that clear earlier tonight?”

“Perhaps I need another demonstration.” Charles suggested, arching into Erik’s body, his cock rubbing against Erik’s thigh.

“That can be arranged.” Erik rolled himself on top of Charles, hiking one of his legs up to settle between them and giving him a searing kiss.

* * *

Tony Stark’s Christmas party was in full swing. People were dressed to the nines, champagne and generously spiked punch flowed, and servers wove through the crowds with fancy little canapes. Tony himself, as expected, had yet to make an appearance.

“I thought you were bringing your stuffy little professor with you tonight?” Emma commented, slinking up beside him in her skintight white dress.

“I am. He’s been held up at work.” Erik replied.

“Does he even own anything appropriate to wear to a Tony Stark soiree?” Emma asked pointedly.

“You’re being particularly bitchy tonight.” Erik remarked.

“You can’t blame a girl for wondering what his next fashion disaster will be. I’m almost sure he gets dressed in the dark every morning.”

“He doesn’t.” Erik commented.

Erik could say with complete confidence that Charles had gotten dressed this morning with the lights on, he’d been there after all. Watching Charles get dressed in the morning was one of his favourite things – he loved the way Charles wrapped himself in the comfort of cozy layers. He loved it almost as much as he enjoyed pealing all the layers away and kissing the freckles on Charles’ shoulders and the perfect pale skin of his back and the swell of his ass. 

“You’re seriously not worried about this? What if he turns up in a powder blue suit? What if he wears that horrid corduroy jacket?”

“I’m not worried.” Erik looked over at Emma, his expression bland.

Turning away from Emma, Erik scanned the crowd again. Charles should have been here by now. He’d said he was going to be late – some sort of interdepartmental meeting, but he’d texted Erik over an hour ago to say he’d finally been able to sneak out and would be making his way to Stark tower as soon as possible. Erik was starting to worry. If Charles wasn’t here in the next five minutes, he was leaving this ridiculous party to find his boyfriend.

At that moment Erik glanced at the entryway and his heart skipped a beat. Charles was here and he was resplendent. He was wearing a perfectly fitted black tuxedo and he was without his usual thick framed glasses, his beautiful blue eyes shining.

Erik was just about to make his way across the room to Charles when their eyes met. Charles gave him a jaunty wave and started weaving his way through the crowd.

“My boyfriend has arrived.” Erik informed Emma and a smug smile spread across his face at her stunned expression.

“Erik,” Charles exclaimed as he reached Erik’s side and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I am so sorry I’m so late! I cannot believe Professor Essex called an impromptu meeting on the last day of the semester. It took me ages to find a moment to slip out the door – I swear that man was trying to keep me at the office.”

Erik smiled and squeezed Charles’ hand. “I’m glad you made your escape.”

“As am I.” Charles beamed. “May I say you look gorgeous this evening. I do love how you fill out a tux.” Charles placed a hand lightly on Erik’s chest and gave him a small, private smile before turning to look at Emma, still standing stunned beside him. “Emma, so nice see you again. You’re looking rather pale, are you feeling alright? Let me go get you a drink.”

And he was off, searching for a drink for a woman who five minutes ago had been insulting him.

“Are you satisfied?” Erik asked.

“Am I... what?” Emma stuttered out her gaze still stuck on Charles.

“My boyfriend and his attire. Does he past muster tonight?” Erik smirked.

“It… of course it does! He’s perfection incarnate! Why, why has he been hiding that ass in ill-fitting pants all this time? You did this didn’t you – you bought him the suit!” Emma said, eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t.” Erik frowned. “This was all Charles. I had no idea what he’d be wearing tonight.”

“Then why does he dress like a hobo? If he has that tux in his closet… just why?” Emma scolded.

“He likes to be comfortable.” Erik shrugged.

“I can’t believe it doesn’t bother you.” Emma gave him a pointed look. “Next thing you know you’ll be wearing fluffy cardigans.”

“That is never going to happen.” Erik replied dismissively.

* * *

**3.**

_One Year Later_

Emma walked down the icy sidewalk and stared up at the house in front of her. A year ago, she never would have believed Erik would move out of his sleek modern apartment to live in a quaint little neighbourhood full of brownstones. But then a little over a year ago she’d still had trouble believing Erik was dating his frumpy little professor and she would have bet good money it wouldn’t last (she had in fact bet actual money it wouldn’t last in Janos’ betting pool at work and had to shell out a few hundred dollars to Raven who had, of course, bet on her brother’s success in snagging Erik). 

Now, she was about to walk up the steps to the brownstone Erik shared with his fiancé and go to their Christmas/Chanukah party. Because apparently, fluffy cardigans and all, Erik was so smitten by the little professor he’d asked him to marry him a few weeks ago. Never a fan of the institution of marriage, Emma couldn’t say she approved, but she also had to admit Erik was… lighter, calmer, happier even since finding Charles, horrible wardrobe and all. 

Holding her bottle of wine securely in one hand, Emma knocked firmly with her free hand and waited. The door opened within moments, revealing Charles and Erik standing side by side. Charles was wearing a horrendous Christmas sweater with fuzzy pompoms in various colours attached to it. Emma could not contain her smirk when her eyes took in Erik beside him, in an equally fuzzy and ugly Chanukah sweater with illuminated candle lights on a silver menorah. 

Erik gave her a hard glare, clearly meant to get her to hold her tongue. 

“Emma!” Charles smiled, leaning forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “So glad you could make it this evening. Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah!” 

“Thank you, Charles.” Emma smiled. “And may I say what lovely, festive sweaters you have. Both of you.” 

Emma bit her lip to contain a laugh at the depth of Erik’s scowl in response to her comment. 

“Thank you!” Charles replied happily. “Can you believe Erik has never had a holiday sweater before? I simply had to rectify the issue. And doesn’t he look smashing?” 

Charles looked up and over his shoulder, giving Erik a radiant smile and as Erik returned his gaze, his scowl softened, and a tender smile crossed his face. 

For all that Emma often lived up to the reputation of her last name, even she felt her heart melt slightly at the love between the two men in front of her. 

“Yes, yes he does.” She said. 

And it was true. Love was a good look on Erik Lehnsherr. 


End file.
